


hot computer

by harperuth



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Descriptions of Suffocation, M/M, Overheating, Tactile Sexual Interfacing, loss of motor control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:08:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23983561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth
Summary: Sometimes Hot Rod likes the be just that. Hot. Grimlock's got him covered.
Relationships: Grimlock/Hot Rod
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45
Collections: Kinks in the Wires (A free 18+ Transformers weird kinks fanzine)





	hot computer

**Author's Note:**

> i got the chance to write this fun fic for the incredible [Kinks In The Wires](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23966062) zine. thank you so much to nev and dez for setting this up, and please check out the whole zine bc all the works in it are incredible!!

Hot Rod stirred briefly at the huff of laughter that accompanied the door swishing open, “You know, you could just comm me.”

“You like finding me in your berth,” He stretched, pushing his hydraulics to their highest pressure and releasing them, sinking deeper into the berth with a hiss. Dinobots had the best berths on the base, it was such slag.

“Who even let you in?” Grimlock snorted, but he sat next to Hot Rod and ran a servo across his spoiler. 

“Snarl,” Hot Rod’s engine idled softly, a hum filling his whole frame as Grimlock continued his attentions, “I think he’s starting to like me.”

“Mhm,” Grimlock hummed. Hot Rod crossed his arms and rested his helm on them, turned just enough to see Grimlock over his shoulder, “Snarl likes plenty of people, not sure you’re one of them.”

“I’m charming,” Hot Rod smiled, feeling slow and lazy, pushing his spoiler up into Grimlock’s touch.

“You’re something,” Grimlock snorted. He pinched lightly, “And what are you after?”

Hot Rod squirmed, engine revving and the barest suggestion of heat suffusing his frame. Grimlock’s visor flashed, “Oh, _that_ , hm?”

Hot Rod turned his face away, back into the small, dark shelter of his arms. Grimlock’s servos trailed from his spoiler to his back strut, petting plating with firm touches, digits dipping into seams and across cabling. Hot Rod pushed into each touch, charge following in their wake. Grimlock rumbled, something not quite engine, not quite organic, a sound unique to the Dinobots, “Yeah, that.”

Hot Rod’s wiring already felt itchy, that warm buzzing of charge flirting across pathways and gates. It promised to suffuse plating, offline sensors, and feel _really slagging good_. Grimlock huffed a laugh, “Comfortable?”

“Mm,” Hot Rod agreed, moving his arms up and letting his helm fall to the berth. He’d made that mistake before, and wasn’t keen the kinked wiring of doing it again, “Yeah.”

Grimlock moved off the berth for a moment before his weight pressed down on Hot Rod. His large, warm, _perfect_ for this frame blanketed him, pressing him deeper into the berth padding. Another reason Hot Rod always came to Grimlock’s berth for this, the padding had a way of swallowing him in and blocking his vents just right.

Already his hip vents were completely filled, the soft foam of the berth expanding to push up into the slats. His lateral vents were half covered by the berth, the rest expelling heat into the small space created between his frame, Grimlock’s frame, and the berth padding that Grimlock had tucked up next to them when Hot Rod wasn’t paying attention.

Grimlock’s frame rumbled, that strange Dinobot frequency that Hot Rod was starting to crave. It usually meant he cashed in on Swoop’s desire for cuddling in the common areas. This was better though. The rumble was _all over_ , surrounding and filling him up and teasing his engine with it’s just off-beat organic syncopation.

“Good?” Grimlock asked and oh— Hot Rod didn’t know what kind of vocalizer Wheeljack had fit the Dinobots with but the sound rolled through Hot Rod like it’s own kind of charge.

“Good,” He moaned, just a little bit, hoping the sound was muffled by berth padding. Grimlock’s huff of laughter belayed that hope.

“Wrist port, bud,” Grimlock tapped the servo he wanted. Hot Rod grumbled, but twisted up and popped the panel allowing Grimlock access to his medical port. He kept arguing that he wasn’t going to need Grimlock to stop, but Grim insisted on having a direct line after it became clear his comm functions were going to go down every time.

“Thanks,” Grimlock sounded sardonic and Hot Rod was about to give him a piece of his processor, but Grimlock chose that moment to plug in and the gross, itchy medical check up feeling hit his processor, making his plating flare and shuffle.

“Ugh,” Hot Rod shuddered through the feeling, doing his best to shunt his processor awareness of Grimlock off to the side.

“Deal with it,” Grimlock pushed his mechaorganic rumble up another...gear? Intensity? Either way Hot Rod felt himself melting into the berth padding. His HUD pinged.

**Warning: Temperature Rising.**

He dismissed the warning. He wasn’t even particularly uncomfortable at this point, just fantastically warm under Grimlock. Their plating skid together all across his frame, sending delightful charged feedback through his sensor net. Hot Rod rocked back and forth, encouraging the scraping. 

Grimlock ex-vented and more of his weight pressed down onto Hot Rod. 

Hot Rod was better with his internal coding than a lot of mechs gave him credit for. There were a lot of delicate workarounds that setting yourself on fire required, and even more you learned when you were regularly pinned down on a war torn planet by a trine of seekers with dialled up senses out for your internals.

He pushed around his coding for a moment and found the process connecting his internal temperature gauge and fan systems. He patched it with a disconnect. Easy enough. Mechs dismissed their cooling fans all the time. Some of the humans on base had caught on and called it “robot blushing.” The patch wasn’t a dismissal though, but a full severing, however temporary.

**Warning: Fans Not Found.**

Hot Rod snickered, the sound human and grating in a vocalizer not built for it. Grimlock nuzzled the back of his head, “You’re playing with your coding again.”

“Best way to do it,” Hot Rod gasped, and rooted around again to find the auxiliary coding that was rerouting venting to his mouth. He severed that too.

“You’re gonna frag yourself up one day,” Grimlock sighed, but kept up the slow scraping movements where their frames met. Each pull of plating burring against plating shot a zing of charge up his lines, the barest of crackle across wires.

**Warning: Air Flow Obstructed.**

Hot Rod angled his leg enough to press the open ended tubing close against Grimlock, sealing them off. Grimlock huffed, bringing a servo over to clamp over the tubing on his wrist. Hot Rod turned his head enough to nuzzle back under Grimlock’s mouth plate. 

“Good, kid?” Grimlock’s vocalizer rolled through his protoform.

“Older’n you,” Hot Rod mumbled, wriggling again.

He was starting to feel warm. Grimlock was a furnace above him, around him. The Dinobots all seemed to run exceedingly warm, but never showed signs of being overheated. Their mechaorganic engines were just _like that_ , and it was another reason Hot Rod liked to be caught under Swoop’s wing as much as possible.

**!Warning: Temperature Rising!**

Hot Rod dismissed it. Grimlock hovered at the edges of his awareness of his processor, no doubt noting the warning as well. 

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” Hot Rod mumbled, rubbing his face plates on the berth in front of him and Grimlock’s intake behind him, the differing sensations lighting his sensor net up. Soft. Scrape. Zing of charge. Soft. Scrape. Zing.

“I’ll worry as much as I want,” Grimlock nuzzled back though.

His engine kicked up higher, autonomic response to the charge running through him. Charged up, more power, drive faster. All it did now was cycle his temperature that much higher.

**!Warning: Temperature Rising!** **  
****Disengaging: Hydraulics.**

The last bit of tension he didn’t even realize he was holding melted away, every bit of compressed air hissing out through the last of his open vents. His joints went loose, struts separating. Grimlock’s weight pushed him nanomechanometers deeper into the berth.

Hot Rod tried to make a noise, but all his vocalizer would spit was nonsense static. 

“Fuck,” Grimlock laughed a little, “That’s always so disconcerting.”

“Big-g-g w-word,” Hot Rod reset his vocalizer three times to get his own words out, his processor struggling to understand the feedback and work around patches.

Grimlock kicked his mechaorganic rumble up another rev and Hot Rod tried to jump, pull away from the _big hot buzz too much_ , but his hydraulics didn’t respond.

**!Warning: Temperature Rising!** **  
****Increasing: Sensor Net Sensitivity**

Heavy war plating meant that for the most part their species had grown used to not feeling much. Wouldn't be great to take a hit and go down immediately. Sure, seams and wire bundles and protoform were still sensitive, but his plating?

Where Hot Rod’s sensor net normally retreated now buzzed to new life, desperate for feedback to identify and fight the perceived threat to his temperature gauge. 

Grimlock burned against him, plating chirring against his own with so much feedback that Hot Rod’s processor spun with paradox loops. Oh that was _divine_. Each confused circuit misfire generated a cascade of others all generating more and more charge inside him. Zips of electricity tingled down his wires away from his processor, revving his engine, rattling plating, pushing his internal temperature that much higher.

“Gettin’ warm there, Roddy,” Grimlock hummed, scraping his pelvic plating against Hot Rod’s aft in a crackling parody of the human’s intimacy.

_Dirty dancing_ , his processor provided as it spun up against error messages and patches.

**!Warning: Temperature Rising!** **  
****Disengaging: Vocalizer**

Hot Rod tried to reset his vocalizer several times, even knowing it was offline. Grimlock pushed a little further into his processor and stopped him.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” His words were gentle, so gentle, where the rest of him was big and warm and covering Hot Rod so absolutely. 

**!Warning: Temperature Rising!** **  
****Disengaging: Optics**

His energon was starting to warm up. 

His vision was already fuzzy from charge and really all he was seeing was the berth from one side and Grimlock on the other. His optics were full of delicate wiring and thin transsteel. His processor didn’t want any of his too hot energon slagging them up.

Didn’t mean he didn’t try to whine.

“Shh,” Grimlock soothed, still keeping up the full frame sliding, scraping movements that lit up Hot Rod’s sensor net, “You’re good, you’re safe.”

Hot Rod tried to curl up, compress his frame around his spark. Protect the most important part. He _knew_ this was what he wanted, but the error messages and paradox loops were tripping over his logic coding and pushing him towards frame panic. 

His offline hydraulics didn’t respond and even if they did Grimlock was too heavy. He wouldn’t have moved.

**!TEMPERATURE WARNING!**

Grimlock continued to soothe him even while he lit up his sensor net. Hot Rod was helpless to anything but the wash of sensation now. He noted idly each warning flashing through his coding.

His plating was _humming_ with charge. 

**!TEMPERATURE WARNING!**

His processor kept glitching out on pushing into the contact or away, every part of his defense protocols struggling to get past the patches and emergency shut downs to _act_. Every error and paradox pushed through his system, crackling out into more charge being pushed through the wiring of his sensor net.

He didn’t realize he was still capable of begging until Grimlock pushed into his processor long enough to cancel the text loop. His frantic coding paused for a moment, acknowledging the intruder. It was enough that he was able to reset his audials and hear, “Alright, kid. I gotcha.”

**!TEMPERATURE WARNING!**

Grimlock slid off to the side of him, scraping their plating in a long screech, and removed his fan patch in the same klik.

Roddy’s engine _roared_.

His fans cycled up to their highest setting so fast it almost hurt. 

Processor errors resolved and reallocated to purge or long term storage fast enough to leave him dizzy.

Paradox loops reordered and settled back into the correct places.

The correction charges hit his frame in waves, the sheer feeling of everything slotting back into how it should be combined with the cool air hitting his internals pushed him into overload.

Hot Rod tried to scream through his disengaged vocalizer and dropped offline.

He came to on top of Grimlock, his warmth counteracting the shivers that wanted to wrack his frame as it desperately cooled itself.

“Good?” Grimlock hummed, massive servo running from Hot Rod’s aft to his spoiler and back.

“So-oo-o-o g-g-g-good,” Hot Rod groaned, pulling at his limbs until his hydraulics repressurized completely. He pushed himself up enough to get his arms under his helm and look at Grimlock, “You go—od?”

Grimlock huffed, tweaking the tip of Hot Rod’s spoiler, “Caught your backlash, kid.”

“Ol’er’n’you,” Hot Rod dropped his helm back down, the sensation from his spoiler a nice aftershock to his overworked systems.

“Recharge,” Grimlock admonished, rolling them so Hot Rod was between him and the wall. His servo was back to the long, slow movement along his back strut. Hot Rod exvented, letting the warmth and mechaorganic hum of Grimlock’s frame lull him under.

**Author's Note:**

> YarAnrethe drew some of the most beautiful art i've ever seen for this fic --> [right here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/kitw/works/23974159)
> 
> you can come yell at me on twitter [@floralpunkcfb](https://twitter.com/floralpunkcfb)


End file.
